<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Auto-Injector by citrusella</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123221">Auto-Injector</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusella/pseuds/citrusella'>citrusella</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Steven Universe (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(I don't know what to tag the second chapter but basically it's a lot of Steven processing), Allergies, Anaphylaxis, Dialogue Heavy, Episode: s06e05 Bluebird, Gen, Parties, food allergies, second chapter also takes place at the same point in the timeskip, the beginning takes place intra-timeskip (between change your mind and the movie)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:16:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,586</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123221</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/citrusella/pseuds/citrusella</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In an alternate timeline, Steven meets Bluebird at her welcome party but he cannot, under any circumstances, try her hors-d'oeuvres.</p><p>Or: Steven ends up with allergies because why not</p><p>(Whole-fic summary subject to change as I've decided to try to write about three other chapter ideas)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>lofi fanfics to practice social distancing to</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Bluebird</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by <a href="https://citrusella-flugpucker.tumblr.com/post/637536254413635584/me-reading-this-post-oo-my-brain-so-like">my brain going here when reading someone's Tumblr post</a> and then <a href="https://citrusella-flugpucker.tumblr.com/post/637540341013233664/steven-but-he-has-to-carry-an-epi-pin-because-his">receiving this ask</a> and then I <em>had</em> to write it even though my brain is SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE HOLIDAYS, DANG IT. Also that one thing people occasionally bring up regarding Bluebird's culinary exploration potentially a deliberate plate of allergens intended to kill him.</p><p>(Also also, the fic was supposed to be entirely different but then I latched onto the "unrelated to fic plot" bit in the latter link and this happened.)</p><p>...Some part of this feels unintentionally working off some stuff that happened to a family member when I was a child, hrm. Not an official inspiration but there you go...</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steven Quartz Cutiepie Demayo Diamond Universe is fifteen years old the first time he has a serious allergic reaction.</p><p>He is lucky he's at Connie's that first time it happens, or he might have brushed it off until it was more obvious, until it was worse.</p><p>He scratches at his arm. "Something's… weird," he says to Connie, chewing on a snack as they look up <em>Spirit Morph Saga</em> cosplay ideas, before anything else seems to be wrong.</p><p>He's not freaked out. Yet.</p><p>He is lucky Dr. Maheswaran is home and has seen enough of this kind of thing at her job in the emergency department to catch it early, before it's too late.</p><p>She <em>is</em> freaked out, but she's had enough practice hiding it.</p><p>She asks him what they were doing, if he got into anything, if they were eating anything.</p><p>And she does it quickly, sparing no second while she digs methodically through the small cache of medicine bottles the Maheswarans keep in a container in the kitchen.</p><p>He is lucky she does her best to at least try to ward it off by giving him a hefty dose of Drillaben and practically shoving him into her car while he's still in the process of taking it, booking it to the hospital.</p><p>He's solidly started to freak out when he can tell his face has swollen up, when breathing feels like being stuck in Lion's mane except that he can't duck out to get more air.</p><p>He's freaking out when Dr. Maheswaran guides him inside the hospital mere minutes from when they left the house, with all the care she'd use with Connie in a similar situation and starts using words he hasn't learned yet—conditions like anaphylaxis, medications like epinephrine and diphenhydramine—at the doctors and nurses who are actually on shift.</p><p>By the time he's in an ER bay, on a litter, medicated and on oxygen, his head is swimming and he's tired of being freaked out and he just wants his dad.</p><p>Dad is lucky Dr. Maheswaran, having discovered Steven doesn't have a GP, doesn't rip him a new one. Yet.</p><p>She simply sighs, says, "We'll talk about this later," and then she leads him to his son.</p><p>He does his best, given the monitors and lines on him, to comfort the growing teen boy.</p><p>Someone comes up and tells the both of them that he's coming out of the woods but there are things they need to discuss.</p><p>Steven is lucky he wasn't somewhere else, with someone else—or worse, <em>not even on Earth</em>—or else he might have died.</p>
<hr/><p>She shoves the plate of hors-d'oeuvres in his face and he's concerned he almost doesn't step back fast enough.</p><p>Maybe the grass is okay—even with the hay fever, he doesn't have near so much of a problem with pollen—but the other two make his breath catch and his heart race… and that's before they've even done anything to him.</p><p><em>I should probably be fine as long as I don't </em>eat<em> them</em>, he rationalizes. <em>Touching isn't a </em>great<em> idea but if it happens then it won't be as bad as eating…</em></p><p>—Too bad eating them is exactly what she's trying to make him do. …Maybe she doesn't know?</p><p>"Please enjoy it! I'm begging you!" Bluebird pouts and something about it looks pretended.</p><p>He can't respond to her begging because he patently will <em>not</em> enjoy it, and he knows it.</p><p>And not even just because grass, clams, and peanut butter is a pretty disgusting combo.</p><p>He clasps one hand around the other wrist, by extension running his hand over the alert bracelet adorning it, and clears his throat. "Oh, um… heh. I'll… I'll just—"</p><p>Amethyst pipes up behind him. "Geez. Um, Steven," she says, placing a hand on his shoulder, "Don't m—Where's your, uh, the—" She jabs him in the arm, which isn't <em>exactly</em> where it goes, but he knows what she's talking about.</p><p>"R-right. My… my bag, yeah," he breathes.</p><p>He also knows Amethyst knows where he keeps it. She's giving him an out.</p><p>"…I'm gonna go to the bathroom." He tries to play it off smooth.</p><p>He ignores the silence that's descended on the party as he closes the door behind him.</p>
<hr/><p>He's pulled the auto-injector from his bag, forgotten by the counter—luckily to no issue—in his haste to get to Little Homeworld this morning for the commercial, and he's turning it over in his hands when a knock comes at the door.</p><p>"…Schtu-ball?"</p><p>He takes a deep breath; it's just Dad. "Come in."</p><p>"Man, it's more awkward than me and the Zoomans out there; Pearl told me you were in here…" He looks at the epinephrine in his son's hands and frowns. "You don't need to use that, do you?"</p><p>"No, I don't think so, I just… I felt like holding it, I guess… Thinking… or—whatever." Dad nods. "I wanted to, like, say something, but she was getting pretty pushy? Getting upset that I wouldn't like her food or something."</p><p>Greg grimaces. "She's still doing it; the gems are trying to explain what's up, but it really doesn't sound like she's taking 'no' for an answer, bud."</p><p>He sighs, gesturing as he talks. "I mean, I can't help but think maybe she's <em>trying</em> to hurt me—I mean, it's <em>Eyeball and Aquamarine</em>," he scoffs. "Last I checked, they hated my guts, but when the party started everyone said she seemed to be looking for a fresh start or something." He scratches an itch—<em>just</em> an itch, you're fine, Steven—at the side of his face. "How would she have even found out? We tried not to advertise it specifically so people who weren't as happy with Era 3 wouldn't try to use it against me…"</p><p>He frowns, thinking back—none of this had been an issue back when he was 14, but in the lull after the confrontation with the Diamonds, his gem powers—and apparently his gem was propping up most of his immune system, they had discovered—suped themselves up, refining in the absence of confrontations, in the comfort of a life that no longer required a more gross approach.</p><p>(Of course, maybe that's part of the problem, given that now his body's attacking things that pose no threat—sometimes it feels like he's got some sort of issue with every other allergen known to man (and several known only to aliens!). Maybe his body is stuck in Era 2 and just looking for something to fight… hmm…)</p><p>If Dad has any answer for the question he posed before he descended into the depths of his brain, he never hears it, because once he is shaken out of thought—however long he was left thinking—they are no longer alone in the bathroom; Pearl, Garnet, and Amethyst have joined their impromptu meeting.</p><p>"So, erm… the party is… done." Pearl clasps her hands and tries to keep a convivial tone even if the house has lost the convivial atmosphere.</p><p>Steven places his face in his hands. "Oh, geez, I didn't wanna ruin everyone's fun—"</p><p>Garnet lifts a hand and cuts him off. "You didn't. Bluebird Azurite did."</p><p>"Yeah, dude, they unfused and started fighting each other with the food after we nagged Bluebird enough and it turns out it was some sort of plan to 'get' you and they only fused in the first place because they both hate your guts," Amethyst snickers and only sort of tries to hide her satisfaction.</p><p>"Yeah… that seems pretty like them… Wait, are you saying there's a bunch of nut and shellfish residue all over the living room?" He… well… frowning is an understatement. He looks ready to facepalm… but worse.</p><p>"I got started on cleaning it up. But yes." Pearl sniffs and gives Steven a look. "I might suggest avoiding touching things until I've given it a more thorough cleaning."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>Steven looks at the injector that's still in his hands for altogether too long.</p><p>Greg is the first to speak up. "Steven?"</p><p>"I'm… sorry… I'm just… thinking of how things could have gone worse? I know maybe that's a bad thing to do, but…"</p><p>He huffs.</p><p>"What if she'd gotten me at Little Homeschool? I didn't have the pen with me when I went. And she replaced my juice with tomato soup!"</p><p>"Don't you like tomato soup?"</p><p>"Yeah, but isn't that, I dunno, scary? What if she'd replaced it with, like… I dunno? Clam chowder?"</p><p>Amethyst reeled back in offense. "Ew, clam chowder in <em>a juice box</em>? You know a food's gross when even I won't eat it, dude."</p><p>He pinches the bridge of his nose. "My point is, it could have been bad! She got that stuff in <em>here</em> without you guys knowing, because it's not like we keep any of that in the house now, so who knows what she could have done if she'd just led with the hors-d'oeuvres somewhere no one was expecting her to?!"</p><p>Greg places his hand on Steven's back. "But she didn't, bud. Maybe we can just be thankful?"</p><p>He doesn't know whether to take his dad's sage advice or lament that no one else in the room really has to live with this in the same way he does. </p><p>…He opts for what feels like it'd be more comfortable to everyone else. No need to burden them with <em>every</em> facet of his own worries even though he knows they're concerned, too. "Yeah. Okay… but… what if she comes back?"</p><p>Pearl frowns. Amethyst shifts awkwardly. </p><p>Garnet says, "She won't. She's been poofed and bubbled."</p><p>"Wha—?! But—" Steven sputters, having no <em>great</em> response to this new development.</p><p>"It was the best future, Steven. We can unbubble her and try to get through to her later, but every future where someone didn't bubble her today had a near-complete probability of going very, very badly." She adjusts her glasses. Steven cocks a brow.</p><p>"…How bad?"</p><p>Garnet takes a moment to consider whether she should let him know about the selling-his-sensitive-medical-information-on-the-black-market future or the other one.</p><p>She opts for the other.</p><p>"…Your father loses his hair."</p><p>"What!?" Steven exclaims. Beside him, Greg's eyes widen and he cradles and strokes his hair as if holding a newborn child. "Yeah, yeah, okay, that's a bad future. But we still gotta come up with a plan for unbubbling her." Greg clutches his hair at Steven's suggestion.</p><p>"Even after she tried to kill you, dude?" Amethyst says.</p><p>"…Wouldn't be the first gem to take a stab at it. She's just the first to get…" he considers his wording with a wince, "creative." He pauses, taking a moment to squeeze the safety net he's still holding in his hands before he slips it back into his bag.</p><p>He rubs the back of his head. "Might make a point to be out of town that day, though…"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...Maybe now I can write holiday fics, because my brain just PUMPED THIS OUT, man. (I almost wanted to keep working, buffering the wording, refining it, but I think I wanted it done so I COULD work on holiday fics. XP)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Dinner at Vidalia's</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After several tiring hours at the ER getting over his first time having an anaphylactic reaction, Steven and Greg end up at Vidalia's, where Steven is only a <em>little</em> cranky about everything that's happened. Just a tad.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, originally this chapter wasn't supposed to exist. This fic wasn't supposed to continue. But then the desire to write something branching off that first passage in the original chapter presented itself, and THEN I said "why not try to flesh out the other two ideas?", so now here are some plots that I want to at least attempt to explore:</p><ol>
<li>Steven (and Greg, and the gems a little) processing what happened and also just being plain tired (that'd be this chapter)</li>
<li>Something exploring how Growing Pains might be different now that a) Steven has been to a hospital/doctor before, and b) swelling could be a sign of a reaction</li>
<li>An adjusted form of my original idea that I was going to write before I wrote the Bluebird idea in the first chapter, set post-Future</li>
</ol><p>For reference, this is Greg's ringtone, because I thought it would be funny: <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5i9E6zAhvp8">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5i9E6zAhvp8</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's after 8pm when Greg pulls the van into Vidalia's driveway, he and Steven finally free from hours in the emergency room capped off by a trip to a pharmacy to fill some prescriptions.</p><p>…Geez, is he glad he's rich. They'll need to figure out insurance and doctors and medication and—</p><p>Steven huffs out a sigh, though it almost seems as if he's afraid to, like if he does it the air won't come back.</p><p>"I could have gone back to Connie's, Dad," he says quietly, barely above a whisper.</p><p>Greg clicks the key out of the "on" position slowly and replies, "You know I think the Maheswarans are great, and I… trust 'em and all," how could he not, they'd saved his son's life, "Connie's mom's a doctor and… all that. I…" He rubs at the steering wheel. "It may sound weird, but I'm gonna be honest; I kinda wanna be able to check up on you tonight, bud. I felt like we should be together."</p><p>Steven rubs his finger on the window crank, avoiding meeting his father's face and yet, somehow, still attempting some sort of brightness as he speaks. "Then we can be together at the house, right?"</p><p>He knows they probably can't, and he <em>knows</em> that's exactly why they're at Vidalia's.</p><p>"I was hoping there was a long shot that Bismuth might magically be done with the renovations, but I haven't even been able to get Pearl on the phone to tell the gems what happened, let alone ask about that. I think the house might not be an option. Especially considering the state it was in when I was helping with it yesterday."</p><p>Steven's eyes trace the outline of the airbag compartment in front of him for several moments.</p><p>"Can we sleep in the van, then?" He wants to sound upbeat… but he's pretty sure he just sounds… beat.</p><p>"I mean, we <em>could</em>, but I figured you might be more comfortable in there. You know: firmer cushion, a bed that's not covered in 20 years of grime and crumbs… heat."</p><p>Steven doesn't say anything. Greg sneaks a glance his way and it's clear why: he looks ready to fall asleep yet too on edge to actually do so.</p><p>Greg doesn't blame him.</p><p>After what seems like forever, Steven unceremoniously says, "Okay, I guess you're right," unbuckles his seat belt, and reaches for the door latch.</p>
<hr/><p>"We ate dinner a couple hours back, but I got leftover noodles in the fridge!"</p><p>Steven, situated on Vidalia's couch and looking like the back and armrest is the only thing keeping him up, squeezes his eyes shut. "…No, thanks." He puts on something resembling a smile.</p><p>It doesn't land.</p><p>Vidalia pauses but tries to keep the light tone to her voice. "If you're not feeling noodles, I've got tons of stuff in the cabinets—"</p><p>"I don't. want. anything." The interruption comes louder than he's intending. He wants to regret it. He's not sure he does.</p><p>Steven's tone takes Greg aback, but given everything that's happened today, he's not quite sure how he's going to address it.</p><p>But Vidalia speaks up so he doesn't have to.</p><p>"Hey, it's fine. Get cranky, man. You deserve to shirk manners after what you've gone through today." Her voice is understanding, but there's the tiniest hint of mom-style shaming, as if to say "this might not fly when you're feeling better".</p><p>Which he knows. Of course he knows.</p><p>"…I'm sorry."</p><p>She crosses her arms. "Don't apologize. If I'd, like, almost died or whatever, I'd probably wanna get snippy, too."</p><p>Steven chews on her words, wanting to nod but too fried to do it. "…Wait, how do you even know what happened, anyway? Did Dad tell you? I didn't hear him—" He tries not to sound embarrassed, tries not to sound like he has such a problem with her knowing, but he's sure he does anyway.</p><p>"Nah, your dad was washing my car when he got the call about it. It wasn't like he <em>tried</em> to tell me anything except that he had to leave very fast—heh, he actually tossed his keys at me and made me lock up for him," she says, fishing the key ring out of her pocket and gently lobbing it at Greg. "I was just eavesdropping. The only thing he said <em>to</em> me was when he texted me about staying the night here."</p><p>
  <em>Ring-a-da-ding-ding-dingy-dong, ringy-di-dong-ding-DING-dong! Ding-ding-a-dingy-dong, ringy-ding-ding-ding-dong!</em>
</p><p>"…Speaking of calling or texting… that's probably Pearl." He grimaces at the caller ID and then picks up the phone.</p><p>"Hey, I take it Bismuth's not done with the renovations? No, I know the schedule, I was just wondering. Mmm-hmm, okay, corrupted gem thing in South America, got it. No, I'm at Vidalia's with Steven… He's not at Connie's because he… he had an allergic reaction. —No, I'm sure he knows about his… fossa, he's 15, Pearl, but it wasn't that kind of—"</p><p>Greg sighs and places his face in his hands. Steven heaves himself to his feet and interests himself in another part of the house, walking down the hall from the living room to the kitchen, not wanting to hear more of the conversation.</p><p>(Not wanting to show that he's maybe, just the slightest bit, uncomfortable with all the focus on him, all the eyes on him.)</p><p>"Pearl, he almost…" He can guess how that sentence will end, but he pretends it's not his concern—the living room is out of earshot as he finds a seat at the kitchen table. Dad brought the pens and Drillaben and the papers with all the new stuff they're going to have to learn in here and left them on the table for all to see, and Steven's not sure how <em>that</em> makes him feel.</p><p>…Yeesh. Today sucks.</p><p>"Steven, what are you doing here?"</p><p>"Aaaagh!" Steven's voice cracks as he half groans, half screams, simultaneously a manifestation of frustration about… everything… and being caught off-guard by a new presence in the kitchen.</p><p>The newcomer raises his hands defensively. "Geez, sorry, I'll just grab the granola bar I came for and get out."</p><p>"No, I'm sorry, Sour Cream. You… you shouldn't have to get out of your own kitchen. I'll go. It's… it's fine. I—"</p><p>Sour Cream takes a seat at the table right as Steven tries to stand up. "Whoa, dude. I may spend 90% of my time DJing in my room, but I see people enough that I can still tell when they're bummed. What's going on?"</p><p>"Oh, I don't know, I don't wanna bother—"</p><p>"Hit me."</p><p>Steven's tired enough that he takes this literally. "What?"</p><p>Sour Cream rolls with it, continuing, "You know. Tell me what's eating you. Getting you all… sad and stuff."</p><p>"Oh. Um, I mean it's… it's not—I…" Steven sighs. "It's just been a really… <em>really</em> bad day."</p><p>Steven pauses, considering how much to divulge; he glances at the bag on the table and wonders if Sour Cream's eyes are following his. </p><p>He guesses it doesn't matter—he'll <em>have</em> to talk about it sometime. "…I could have died today."</p><p>Sour Cream lets himself release a low whistle. "Must be some big gem issues, then."</p><p>Steven's eyes widen; his gem life's not <em>that</em> dangerous <strike>anymore</strike>, is it? "No. Um. Human… human ones, actually. I, um, my throat, um—they said I had, uh… I'm sorry, it was kind of—no—<em>really</em> scary. Um, ana… phylaxis?"</p><p>Steven can't place Sour Cream's expression, but it gives off a vibe somewhere between shock and pity. "Oh, like a, an allergic reaction thing?"</p><p>"…Yeah. Connie's mom, like, <em>rushed</em> me to the hospital and I couldn't, um…" he vaguely gestures, a grabbing motion, at his throat, trailing off. Sour Cream seems to get what he's going for. "Like, it feels like the actual <em>issue</em> wasn't even that long, I was starting to get better before Dad even got there, but then they kept me there because—I guess a lot of times sometimes it happens again? And then they were talking to me and Dad about things and giving us some sort of sheet of paper we had to take to the store to be allowed to get medicine or something?"</p><p>"A prescription?"</p><p>Steven outstretches his hands in some manner of a confused gesture. "I dunno, I've never had to do this before! The whole thing felt like… um… hmm… I guess like how Lars describes school?"</p><p>"…Considering what I know about Lars and school… that's not good, right?"</p><p>"…Yeah."</p><p>"That's heavy, man. Take it that's why your dad's here, too?" He jabs his thumb toward the living room; Steven imagines he passed it on his way downstairs and to the kitchen. He nods.</p><p>"It's… it's embarrassing."</p><p>Sour Cream raises his eyebrow. "Your dad?" Steven is not one to find his parents embarrassing, as far as Sour Cream knows.</p><p>"I… Okay, I mean…" He fiddles with one of his fingers. "So I was staying at Connie's—her parents were letting me sleep on the couch sometimes while my house is being worked on, if I wasn't staying in the van with Dad, because he usually stays in the car wash when he's not in the van and there's only one cot in there—but, like, Dad said I had to stay here tonight. I guess because it's… cold? Connie's mom's a doctor and she probably knows more about this than me <em>or</em> Dad but like… he said he wanted to like, check up on me? Watch me while I sleep, I guess?" He winces. "I dunno. And he's been like 'are you okay', 'are you hungry', 'do you need anything' <em>all day</em> and I know it's because he cares, and because it was <em>really</em>… but like… I dunno… I…"</p><p>Sour Cream shrugs. "I get it, he's hovering and you just want him to let you rave in the backyard."</p><p>Steven huffs lightly, <em>almost</em> a laugh but not really. "Maybe not <em>quite</em> that… I just don't wanna bother Dad and the gems and your mom and Connie and… I dunno… I tried to act like I was fine but I think I was too tired to be convincing.  Honestly, I just wanna go to bed."</p><p>"…So go to bed then."</p><p>"I want to, but I'm just so… maybe it's the stuff they gave me at the hospital—I think they said it wears off pretty quick, though, so maybe not—or… maybe it's information overload, or maybe everything that's happened <em>since</em> then just has me really…" He clenches his fists, as if that says everything. "Plus I'm supposed to be taking some medicine and I gotta stay up long enough to take it at least? Which—it's soon, but—" The thought of going to bed at least pushes him to yawn, cautiously as if he's testing if it's still possible… which causes the hospital bracelet still on his wrist to catch his attention, when he raises his hand to cover his mouth.</p><p>"Mm… maybe I should take this off, too."</p><p>He tugs at it experimentally, Dad and Vidalia passing through the doorway as he does.</p><p>"Hey, Schtu. You want help getting that off?"</p><p>Steven eyes it as if considering his options. "Not yet," he settles. "How did the, em, phone call go?"</p><p>"…How well do <em>you</em> think it went?" He sits—slumps practically—next to his son.</p><p>"Pearl's freaking out, isn't she." There's no question.</p><p>"They all are, bud. They're planning to come over for a little bit if it's not too late once they get back—they were pretty far from a warp pad when I called."</p><p>"Nngh, they don't have to worry about me…"</p><p>Greg rubs his thumbnail with his fingers."They're doing it because they love you, kiddo. What happened today was pretty serious—"</p><p>"<em>I know.</em>" He looks down at the wood grain on the table.</p><p>Dad bites his lip. He knows he can't just <em>make</em> Steven let people care for him.</p><p>But he wishes he could.</p><p>Vidalia sniffs, doing her best to dispel the smell of awkward wafting through the kitchen. "Since you're in the kitchen, does that mean you've decided you <em>do</em> want to eat?"</p><p>Steven stiffens like a deer caught in the path of Vidalia's headlights. He crosses his arms and looks away.</p><p>"I dunno. Maybe I just won't eat ever again. I'm half gem; maybe I don't need to." As if to betray him, his stomach growls loudly.</p><p>Greg squints at his son and moves his mouth soundlessly for a few seconds before saying, "Steven, I think we both know if you don't eat anything <em>ever</em> we'll have a different problem on our hands."</p><p>He looks Greg directly in the eyes. "What if it happens again?"</p><p>Greg clasps his hands, flinching at Steven's uncommonly firm eye contact—he… he doesn't… he wants to respond, to let Steven know it'll be okay, but he doesn't want it to sound empty. To sound fake.</p><p>He doesn't want it to <em>be</em> fake.</p><p>Steven's voice cracks, his pitch resembling that of a year ago for the last half of his sentence. "What if I have to be afraid of everything I eat because it might make me die?"</p><p>"Steven… it's… you're not going to… not everything is… I mean, I understand why you're—okay, look, I know things are scary right now, we don't know <em>exactly</em> what we need to stay away from and what we don't, even if we can make a few guesses, but it's… it'll be okay! We'll figure it out!"</p><p>"What if it isn't? What if we don't?!"</p><p>Truthfully, he thinks the allergy doctor they want him to see should have answers for him, but what about until then?</p><p>Greg sighs. Sour Cream and his mother seem to agree to share the same exact frown.</p><p>Steven places his hand to the side of his head, his voice flat. "I'm sorry. I'm tired. I won't be like this tomorrow, I swear."</p><p>Sour Cream rests his hand on the table. "Steven, your life, like, changed today. Cut yourself some slack."</p><p>Steven lets out a long, level breath. "I've had to deal with a lot of people not wanting me to exist. But it's, like, weird now that it's my own body. I've never been—It's never—I've never even been sick, right?"</p><p>Greg pulls at a strand of hair and then tucks it behind his ear. "Not for a long time, bud. Years. And never longer than a day or two even back then."</p><p>"Yeah! This is… so much… it's—I've never had to be afraid of me turning on—myself! And it's worse because I don't <em>really</em> know what to avoid and what's still okay! Like… if I eat the wrong thing and I'm allergic to it and I die… I… I dunno."</p><p>He mumbles something that sounds like "I only had to be afraid of breakfast before…" but everyone is convinced they heard wrong, so they ignore it.</p><p>Vidalia puts her hand to her chin. "Hey, I mean, something's gotta give you <em>some</em> idea of what's up. What were you eating when it happened?"</p><p>"…Me and Connie were eating peanut butter crackers." His face bears the look of someone for whom that snack has been forever ruined.</p><p>Which, well, it has.</p><p><em>I don't think I can eat this.<br/>
…It </em>did<em> try to kill us.</em></p><p>Vidalia taps her lip. "Alright, so… nuts or wheat?" She turns a hand up and squints in thought.</p><p>Greg rubs the back of his hand. "That's the top theory, considering. But the docs in the emergency room said there was a sorta far outside chance of milk or egg, depending on what was in the crackers, if he's, like, <em>really</em> sensitive or something. Maybe a couple other things. But yeah."</p><p>"Okay, I think I can work with that. Ooh, if you're up for it, I can cook up a whole chicken breast for ya! Yellowtail likes 'em breaded, but I can cook it plain."</p><p>"Sorry… I'm not very hungry." Truthfully, he is <em>more than a little</em> hungry, given his last real meal was that turkey sandwich at lunch… but he's only really <em>eating</em> because Dad's implying awful hard that he <em>has</em> to.</p><p>She snaps her fingers. "Okay. Not very hungry, no nuts, wheat, eggs, or milk. Hmm… a <em>challenge</em>. Greg, time me!"</p><p>"I'm not doing that—"</p><p>"Go!"</p><p>That garners a snort out of Steven, the first time he's laughed since everything went down early this afternoon, especially when Sour Cream hides his face in his hands out of some level of embarrassment. Vidalia smirks as she charges toward the cabinets, shoving obvious "no" items aside, pulling things out—"since when does tomato soup have wheat in it!?"—and putting them back, occasionally placing something on the counter.</p><p>Suddenly, she stops and turns to Greg. "Where'd I clock in?"</p><p>"I wasn't keeping track, Vi."</p><p>"…Boomer." Steven snickers, and Sour Cream tries to act as if he hasn't found something his <em>mom</em> just said funny.</p><p>Greg, on the other hand, seems offended. "We're the same age!"</p><p>Vidalia rolls her eyes and looks to Steven. "Anyway… it's not much I've managed to scrounge up, but out of what's fast and edible on its own: I can heat up some broth for you, or you could eat some Cocoa Cobbles—no milk, of course, just in case… there's some gelatin, and if none of that does it for ya, you <em>gotta</em> eat a freeze pop. You ain't leaving this kitchen without <em>something</em> in you, Steven."</p><p>Sour Cream leans across the table to share some not-exactly-secret knowledge. "You're not getting out of it, man. My mom's an expert at forcing people to eat Gel-Oh or freeze pops if they won't eat anything else. She's managed to get <em>Onion</em> to eat one. Choose now or she'll choose for you."</p><p>Apparently hearing his cue, Onion walks into the kitchen, opens the fridge and digs into one of the lower shelves.</p><p>"Speak of the devil. Sorry, hon, all out of Guacola. Gotta wait for the next store run." She offers her younger son a shrug as Steven makes a face and Sour Cream mumbles that he can't believe his brother can stomach the stuff. "Told you to pace yourself, little man."</p><p>Onion turns to his mother with a look somewhere between utter contempt and existential terror on his face. Vidalia simply raises a hand.</p><p>"Ah! What did we talk about for when you feel like this?"</p><p>Onion clenches his fists and methodically tightrope walks the lines between tiles until he reaches the doorway and breaks into a galloping run, arms stiffly extended from his sides, muh-ing several ostensibly borderline offensive words, by his mother and brother's reactions, at the top of his lungs.</p><p>Once his door slams and the creaking of jumps on his bed can be heard, Vidalia turns her attention back to Steven.</p><p>"Hey, congrats, Steven. Now you're officially only the second crankiest person in the house. Settled on anything?"</p><p>Greg offers a suggestion, hoping to streamline his son's trip to bed. "If you go for the broth, you can wash down the medicine with it, Schtu-ball."</p><p>He runs his finger across the edge of the table, realizing the only thoughts he can bring to mind are that he is very tired—he doesn't want to wait for broth to warm up—and that he very much doesn't want a freeze pop. "Nah, I'll have a Gel-Oh, I guess." Thinking to himself a moment, he adds, "Maybe two?"</p><p>Vidalia smiles and turns to the fridge.</p>
<hr/><p>Steven, having eaten the Gel-Ohs to no apparent issue, washed some pills down with water, and been given the comfy spot on the loveseat nearest the newly-turned-on space heater, is long and fast asleep when Pearl bursts through the door about two hours later with a "Steven!" that Greg quickly makes her stifle.</p><p>"Pearl! It's almost eleven! He's sleeping!" he rasps.</p><p>"See, P? Garnet said he'd be fine."</p><p>"Yes, well. Erm…" Pearl taps the tips of her fingers together.</p><p>"Honestly… the future wasn't all that clear, actually. I mostly said it because the futures where I didn't were worse for Pearl." She crosses her arms and wears a smirk tinged with the concern all three have held for the last few hours.</p><p>Pearl glances at Steven's form, under the worn-in pink blanket Vidalia has fished out of the closet. He bears no obvious effects of the emergency from not quite half a day ago. "Are you… sure he's alright?"</p><p>"He's just sleeping. He had a long day. We… we both have." His fingers graze the top of his bald head as his thumb snakes into his hair near the root. He sighs. "I… I got there after things were already kind of dealt with and he was starting to get better, but it was still—he looked so—I mean, I feel like I should take him having been at the Maheswarans' as a blessing, what with their being closer to the hospital, Connie's mom being a doc, but…" He clasps his hands. "I feel like I should have been there earlier, you know? Like I should have been the one to be helping him through it, not his friend's mom."</p><p>Amethyst pipes up. "We could have been there, too. We probably didn't <em>have</em> to deal with that corrupted gem so quick. We mighta been able to put it off, but we didn't and Steven was here, going through <em>that</em>… We're—We're—"</p><p>"Hey, I guarantee wherever you're going to take the end of that sentence, it's probably not true." Vidalia pulls a hand up out of her crossed arms, gesturing it aimlessly. "You can 'woulda, coulda, shoulda' all night, but you actually, like, care and all that stuff. It's not like you're Marty. Sour Cream had to have, like, dental surgery once, and our custody stuff says he pays insurance but it turns out he stopped paying for it…" Vidalia pinches the bridge of her nose. "Point is, you want what's best for Steven. Doesn't mean you have to be there for every cut or scrape or… like… life-threatening hospital trip. Just as long as you're there for most of 'em," she winks.</p><p>"…Geez, I almost forgot Connie's mom promised to chew me out about Steven not having a regular doctor once everything wasn't so… I think she <em>wanted</em> to do it earlier, but she just took Connie home instead once she was sure we could tell her Steven'd be okay." He looks utterly unwilling to be party to that conversation but knows it's a perfectly sensible… reaction? punishment? discussion?</p><p>Vidalia bites her tongue on slapping some of her own sense into her old friend, knowing full well he'll be getting his reckoning soon enough. "So… are you guys gonna stay here all night? I mean, I know I don't have to make a bed for you, it's not like you usually sleep, but—"</p><p>Pearl tenses. "Well, I mean, we could… Should w—We don't want to overstay our welcome…"</p><p>"Nonsense!" Vidalia says with a wave of her hand. "You guys are totally allowed to hang out here if you want to!"</p><p>Amethyst clenches her hands and squats into a position that makes it seem like she's ready to fight, though she's really just excited. "Ooh, yeah! You know what they say about the AV Club!!"</p><p>Vidalia feigns ignorance, even though she knows exactly where Amethyst is going with this. "They're nerdy and good with equipment hookups?"</p><p>Amethyst relaxes into a more "at ease" kind of position, her "oomph" deflated as she takes Vidalia seriously. "No, you know… about the… party thing?"</p><p>Vidalia's eyes widen as she pretends to suddenly get it. "Oh, right, with the sun—do <em>you</em> wanna say it?"</p><p>Amethyst sighs. "Nah. Moment's gone."</p><p>Garnet dissipates her visor, eyeing Vidalia for a moment before looking to Steven and then Greg with soft, only-<em>kind-of</em>-worried eyes. "Tell us what to do next."</p><p>It's… not exactly a command, gentle and open and <em>basically</em> a question without being a question, wholly uncharacteristic for Garnet with her usually-so-helpful future vision, but Greg knows why she's said it, why she's asked him without <em>asking</em> him: He has information the gems don't, information they've likely never had to even <em>consider</em>.</p><p>She can't determine a probable future from what feels like such an improbable present.</p><p>"Well. Might be better to go over it all more in the morning, when Steven can pitch in, but we're gonna have to be more careful, avoid what he can't eat, and we're supposed to get an appointment with an allergist—to confirm things, test what he's actually allergic to, y'know, we got a referral from someone in the ER—and he'll have to carry some stuff around, uh, these, um, pen syringe things, just to be safe in case it happens again."</p><p>"…But he'll be okay," Vidalia adds.</p><p>Greg nods. "…Yeah, I think he will. He's a resilient kid."</p>
<hr/><p>Steven cracks his eyes open, greeted with three gems and one dad filling the brunt of his visual field. It takes a second for his brain to register them, but when it does, he jerks in surprise.</p><p>"…Were you guys watching me sleep?"</p><p>"I—well—not exactly…" Pearl's tone and response are that of someone who has been caught engaging in their old shame just <em>one</em> more time.</p><p>Garnet cuts in with a cheeky, not-<em>quite</em>-smug grin. "We were watching you wake up."</p><p>"Well, don't. It's kinda weird." He sounds more like he's playing at miffed than actually upset.</p><p>He pushes himself into a sitting position, stretching the sleep out of his arms.</p><p>Dad rustles his hair. "Are you feeling better after yesterday, bud?"</p><p>"I mean… I guess? I'm still a little, uh, beat, still a little… um…" Scared. "I'm… doing better, though, yeah. Really." His stomach makes its presence known. "You probably don't even have to force me to eat today or anything," he chuckles.</p><p>Vidalia leans out of the kitchen and calls down the hall, "I was gonna make pancakes but then I remembered you might not be able to eat those… so we're having Cocoa Cobbles and bacon! Eat what you feel like!" She pauses, then adds, "And I'm saving the greasy paper towels just for you, Amethyst!"</p><p>"Aw, <em>yeeesss</em>! That's the best part!" Amethyst practically spin-dashes into the kitchen, unable to hold herself back from the oily prize awaiting her beneath the pile of pork, Pearl and Garnet following after as if they <em>know</em> something will go wrong.</p><p>Steven lets out a hearty giggle, ramping it up when he hears Vidalia's "<em>Amethyst! No!</em>" down the hall.</p><p>Today really is already better than yesterday, it seems.</p><p>He kicks the rest of the blanket off his legs and turns to sit up properly and stretch those, too. Greg uses the new opening on the loveseat to seat himself and give his son a hug, squeezing Steven's shoulder close to his side.</p><p>"Me and the gems were talking, we think it might be a good idea to sit down and talk out what happened, next steps and all that; I told 'em a little while you were out, but I thought it was probably better to lay the whole thing out all together. You up for that? I mean, not until after breakfast but—"</p><p>Steven looks down at the floor, mostly just in thought, but <em>just a little</em> re-processing that <em>oh yeah, he might have died yesterday</em>. "Yeah. It's… probably a good idea. Get everyone on… the same page?"</p><p>Greg, noticing his son's change in demeanor. "Aw, geez, did I kill the energy?"</p><p>"Nah, it was gonna die eventually," Steven deadpans, fiddling with the hospital bracelet they'd forgotten to remove the night before for a few moments before managing to slip it off his hand intact. He inspects it for a second before raising his eyebrows, his tone lightening a tad. "Oh, can I call Connie? I know you told Dr. Maheswaran to tell her I was gonna be fine, but I think I just wanna talk to her. Let her know, myself. Yeah."</p><p>"Sure, bud. I'm sure she'd be happy to hear from ya. Long as she's not eating breakfast herself or still sleeping or something—but then, I'd imagine she'd probably drop everything to talk to you anyway…"</p><p>
  <em>Ring-a-da-ding-ding-dingy-dong, ringy-di-dong-ding-DING-dong! Ding-ding-a-dingy-dong, ringy-ding-ding-ding-dong!</em>
</p><p>Greg picks up his phone off the coffee table and takes a look at the caller ID, then gulps like he's just been asked to enter a scary haunted house as bait. "…Considering what I'm about to walk into, I'd imagine Connie's awake, at least, Schtu-ball."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I probably could have put more focus on the gems' reactions in this, but the chapter was already over 4000 words okay</p><p>Also, "fun" fact: Steven will turn out to be allergic to two things mentioned in this chapter, but he's only reacted to one, here. XP (Why did I put this much thought into this)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>